Uchronia
by SeriesTherapy
Summary: Rick Castle had it all: a successful career, a wonderful daughter and a beautiful fiancée. And yet, something was missing. Until certain detective crashed his book party. My entry for the Castle Winter Ficathon 2015.
1. Chapter 1

_**Uchronia** : hypothetical or fictional time-period of our world, _

_in contrast to altogether fictional lands or worlds._

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

Book release parties were one of the favorite parts of Rick Castle's career. Stepping out of the limousine into the waiting crowd, hearing their cheers and watching their excitement gave him a rush unequal to anything else, except maybe when he was in the midst of a writing spree. This day was no different, and as the crowd's cheers echoed in the confined space of the limousine, he took a deep breath and straightened the collar of his shirt, preparing himself for the madness waiting for him outside as the chauffeur stopped the car amidst a cluster of photographers.

In his suit pocket, his cell phone vibrated for the umpteenth time that night. He didn't have to look to know it was Gina calling, and he would bet that she was pissed at him. Yes, she had told him to arrive at seven thirty, and it was now rounding on eight o'clock, but after all, he was the star of the evening. That gave the right to arrive fashionably late, didn't it?

He was only able to prepare himself for a moment before the chauffeur began to open the limo door. Taking a deep breath, he plastered his best "book jacket grin" on his face and he stepped out of the vehicle. Instantly, he was blinded by the flash of the cameras, and blown away by the deafening shouts of the people gathered at the hotel's entryway. Thankfully, he'd remembered to bring his sunglasses tonight, so at least there wouldn't be a picture of him blinking stupidly in the newspaper this time.

Castle slowly made his way down the crowded sidewalk, waving at his fans and scribbling a few autographs as he walked. He certainly knew how to captivate a crowd, how to make each individual there feel like he was their best friend, and he'd turned the charm on in full force tonight. After sparing a moment or two to answer some questions from entertainment reporters, he gave a final wave to the crowd, then stepped inside the building, still able to hear the crowd's cheers after the front doors shut. He rounded the corner to the elevator and found his agent, Paula, standing at the doors, tapping her foot impatiently.

"You're late," she snapped, not even giving him a sideways glance while she jabbed the button to open the elevator doors.

"Hello to you too, Paula," he answered cheekily.

"Gina is angry."

"When is she not?" he muttered. He was putting on a front for Paula, but cringed internally at the prospect of facing his editor. Gina certainly knew how to hold a grudge, and while she'd be nice enough in public, it would be a long time before she let this one go.

The moment the doors opened, Paula marched inside the elevator, not even waiting for Castle to follow before pressing the button for the roof. He darted in just as the doors slid shut, and Paula lay back against the wall as the elevator began to ascend.

"Gina's speech was supposed to start half an hour ago," she said. "The journalists are complaining about meeting their deadlines, so she will have to cut it short."

"Well, in that case, you're welcome."

"If you want to act so cocky, talk to her yourself," Paula said, striding out of the elevator the moment the doors opened. Castle trailed out behind her to the rooftop party, where hundreds of people were either dancing to the pulsing beat of the soft music or talking in the general vicinity of the open bar.

Sure enough, Castle spotted Gina making her way towards him almost immediately, and she definitely didn't look happy to see him. But he was Richard Castle, the master of charm. He could make her forget that she was annoyed with him in a heartbeat.

He plastered on a grin. "Hey—" he started.

"Save it," she interrupted, her terse tone causing him to abandon any thoughts of cheering her up. "Follow me. We have no time for your excuses."

Gina took his arm and led him towards the open area of the rooftop, tugging him along like a puppy on a leash. When he tried to stop along the way to properly greet his fans and guests, she pulled him forward, not allowing him the chance to do so. The moment they reached the raised platform, she didn't waste any time, letting his arm go as she stepped onto the raised platform, already illuminated and ready for her speech.

As soon as he stopped beside the platform, several fangirls rushed to him, asking for his signature in all sorts of places, whether it be on a loose slip of paper, in a book, or on their bodies. Needless to say, he was happy to oblige, ignoring the look Gina shot him as she began to speak.

"Murder, mystery, the macabre. What is it about a hard-boiled detective, the femme fatale, and the cold steel of a gun that keeps our bedside lamp burning into the wee hours of the morning?" Gina started.

As she continued through her speech, his fans were still fawning around him, demanding his attention with unashamed innuendos and uncovered… body parts. But he still noticed the nasty look Gina threw in his direction between sentences. He smiled in return, quirking an eyebrow as she rolled her eyes. When she finally announced him, he stepped onto the platform and took the spotlight. The crowd went mad.

Sometimes, he just loved his job.

* * *

As soon as he finished his speech, Castle tried to get lost among the guests, hoping that Gina wouldn't be able to find him. No such luck, though. Through the thick cloud of photographers surrounding him, Castle caught a glimpse of his editor striding directly towards him, her eyes fixed determinedly on his. Even if it were possible for him to slip away before she arrived, he wouldn't be able to get very far, due to the photographers and reporters crowded around him, blocking every escape route possible. So he resorted to throwing flirtatious smiles to the reporters interviewing him, hoping they'd stick around to serve as a buffer between him and Gina. They must had sensed the impending danger, though, because they made themselves scarce just in time for Gina's arrival.

The moment she reached Castle's side, she yanked the sunglasses off of his face, a huge, fake smile plastered on her face. He greeted her with a quick peck on the cheek, undeterred by her almost aggressive gesture. That was how Gina was. You just had to take it or leave it.

"What kind of idiot wears sunglasses at night?" she muttered, careful not to let the press overhear.

"Hello to you too, dear," he replied with a hopeful smile on his face, keeping his voice low to try to appeal to her softer side- the side of her that made her cuddle with him in front of the fireplace in the cold evenings; the side that had brought tears to her eyes when he had proposed to her in a hot air balloon, of all places.

His fiancée was unfazed by his efforts to sweet talk her, though, toying with the engagement ring on her left hand as she continued, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "How considerate of you, honoring us with your presence. I had to deal with the media's attention on my own."

With a curt nod of her head and a final smile, she dismissed the few reporters that still hovered around them and turned on her heels and walked off, Castle hot on her tail. She wasn't his fiancée that night; she was his boss.

"You're better at that kind of thing anyway... honey," he shrugged apologetically. Charming her obviously wasn't going to work, so he decided to aim for sympathy, jutting out his chin slightly and putting on his best puppy-dog eyes. That tactic had worked for him in the past, and hopefully, it would work again now. Gina liked to be in charge, specially in her role as editor, so Castle would gladly take a step back if that meant having peace for the night.

She didn't fall for it, though, her face hardening as she looked at him. "Well, I had to answer a hundred variations of the same question tonight," Gina said, pausing for dramatic effect. Castle knew what was coming next, and he sighed, preparing to defend himself.

Sure enough, Gina's next words were exactly what he was expecting. "You had to kill Derrick Storm, didn't you? You could've retired him; you could've crippled him; you could've had him join the frickin' circus. But no. You just _had_ to put a bullet through his head."

There it was. His decision to kill off his main character was still a sore subject with his fiancée these days. He knew the publishing house was worried, afraid he'd killed the "golden goose". Normally, that wouldn't have mattered to him at all, but, considering he was currently living with one of his bosses, he was growing tired of having the same dispute every single night, then having Gina give him the silent treatment for the rest of the evening.

This was neither the time nor the place to get into yet another argument about it, and Gina was so stubborn and persistent that defending his decision was pointless, anyway. So he decided to try his patented move and diffuse the tension with humor, a grin on his face.

"Real messy too. Big exit wound."

Gina chose to ignore his comment, choosing to charge instead. "Of course, this wouldn't matter if you gave me the book you owe me already."

"I told you, Gina. It's coming together." He crossed his fingers behind his back as he spoke, hoping that his fiancée wouldn't catch him in his lie. The truth was that he was going through the worst "dry spell" of his literary career. He'd killed off Derrick Storm in part due to boredom, but mostly due to lack of inspiration. His characters just weren't speaking to him anymore.

"Is it? Because I've been told you spend your days playing video games in your underwear while I'm at work."

He gaped at her, shocked. "You spoke with my mother?"

"I wouldn't have had to, but you don't tell me these things. I had to go to your mother because you don't _talk to me_ , Rick," Gina stressed, some hints of hurt slipping through the anger in her voice.

So that was the real reason behind her uptight behavior lately. Not the book, not his antics in front of the cameras, but the fact that he'd been pretending that everything was going well and lying to her about it.

He didn't know what to say, so he stood quietly, averting his eyes to the ground. Gina waited him out for a couple of seconds, but when he stayed silent, she strutted away with a huff.

 _Great job, Rick_ , he thought. _You can make dozens of young women flail over you, but you can't even keep your own fiancée happy._

He watched Gina as she walked away, her heels clacking across the floor as she strode. A flash of red caught his eye as she passed the bar, and he shifted his gaze to find his mother sitting at one of the stools, flirting with the bartender as she nursed a champagne flute.

Castle quickly made his way to the bar, plopping himself down on the stool beside his mother. "Scotch on the rocks," he said to the bartender, interrupting the conversation the young man was having with her.

"Richard, darling! Hello," Martha started, turning toward her son with a grin.

"What have you been telling Gina, Mother?" he fired in response.

Her eyes widened for a moment, then her gaze hardened as she focused on him, fixing her son with the same look she'd used when he'd gotten in trouble as a child.

"The truth, Richard. You've been moping around the house for weeks now, and she's supposed to be there for you, but you don't let her. She is your fiancee, after all," Martha admonished.

"Mother, remember the arrangement we came to when your last beau left you with nothing? You could come to the loft, and in return, you would help me with Alexis _and_ you'd stay out of my private life."

His mother had come to live with him a few weeks ago, after her latest companion had left her broke, homeless, and with a shattered heart. Martha Rodgers was a very intelligent woman and a fairly talented actress, but in matters of the heart, she was prone to be blindsided by gold diggers and scum who were only after her money. This was the third time a "boyfriend" had taken her money and disappeared, and once again, his mother had moved in with him.

As much as he tried to conceal it, it hurt Castle to see his mother going through all of the heartache all over again. However, Martha Rodgers was nothing if not resilient, and in a matter of days, she had bounced back, even more extravagant and unrestrained than before. There was no denying that life with her was more interesting; their relationship seemed to be founded in their mutual ability to keep the other on their toes.

If only she weren't so… intense.

"Bingo!" Martha exclaimed, her attention on a man across the room. "No ring. Stand back, kiddo. Momma's going fishing." And with those parting words, she was gone.

The bartender set a glass of scotch in front of Castle, and he drained it in one large gulp, wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve as he set the empty glass back on the counter. His fiancée was upset with him, and his mother wasn't taking the situation seriously. This evening was _not_ going as planned.

A presence at his back brought Castle out of his haze, and he turned to find Gina standing behind him, a softer expression than a few minutes earlier gracing her features. "Hey," she offered, her voice soft.

"Hey," Castle replied with a gentle smile. "Enjoying the party?"

Gina chuckled in response. "Sorry. I've been under too much pressure, with the book release, the party, the new manuscript…"

"Yeah, about that…" he began, only to stop, not knowing what to say.

"We can talk about it later, at home," she offered, and he nodded, grateful.

That was why they- he and Gina- worked as a couple. Both of them frequently got sidetracked by their stubbornness, and it didn't help that they tended to have opposite reactions to the same situation. He liked to procrastinate and goof off, saving the hard work for the last minute, while she let things stew until she snapped at everyone around her. And Castle had a way with kindling that particular fire, making her even angrier. But later, they'd both realize where they'd been wrong and turn to the other, tails between their legs in apology. Just like now.

"You're right, this is not the best place, with all the vultures around," he mused, looking through narrowed eyes at a couple of journalists across the room.

"Oh, come on, they're not so bad," Gina said, taking a step closer to him.

"Maybe for you. You don't always get asked the same questions over and over again. _'I'm your biggest fan! Where do you get your ideas?'_ " he mocked, raising his voice in perfect mimicry of a pesky reporter.

"And the ever popular, ' _Will you sign my chest?_ '" Gina intervened.

"That one I don't mind so much," he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, FYI - I do," his fiancée declared.

He smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "I just wish someone said something new every once in a while."

"Mister Castle?" a melodious voice rang from the open space behind him.

Pen at the ready, he turned in a swift motion, amused at Gina's exasperated expression. Instead of a devoted fan holding a book, though, he found a golden badge in his face, the woman behind it staring at him sternly.

"Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place earlier tonight."

Despite her strict appearance, from her short, slicked back chestnut hair to the tips of her high heels, the detective was beautiful, and couldn't be too much younger than him. Words escaped him, and he could only gape at her, confused about where he should turn his attention: her looks, her badge or the fact that she was here for him.

Wait, did she say _murder_?

From behind him, Gina reached an arm, took the pen from his still outstretched hand, and muttered in his ear.

"That's new."

* * *

 _Infinite thanks to encantadaa for her beta work._

 _I'd love to know what you think :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Sometimes, Detective Kate Beckett just hated her job. Especially on days like this.

Their victim that day was a young, successful woman with her whole life ahead of her. The fact that someone would murder a girl in cold blood like that made Beckett question her belief that there was any good in the world, or even that there was justice to be found. And she lived for finding justice.

Just like in every other case, she made a vow to herself this time: she would not stop investigating until the killer was behind bars, and not even a playboy millionaire author was going to stand in her way.

It _would_ be her favorite author that she had to pick up for questioning; the man whose books saved her after her mother's death, and helped give her the motivation to become a cop to find justice for her mom. She'd been secretly delighted when she realized Richard Castle needed to be brought to the precinct, and had to force herself to focus on her objective when she stepped out of the elevator onto the rooftop party, the glitz and glamor of the fancy event thoroughly distracting. When she'd spotted Castle sitting at the bar, chatting with a woman with blonde hair, her heart had started fluttering, her legs threatening to turn to jelly underneath her. She'd struggled to keep her voice steady as she spoke with him, hoping he didn't notice the way her hand was trembling as she held out her badge to introduce herself.

They'd ushered Castle to the interrogation room once they arrived at the precinct, and he was still sitting at the table alone as the detectives talked in the hallway, discussing how to approach him. The thought of talking to him one-on-one left Beckett feeling even more flustered, so she forced herself to study the case file for what felt like the hundredth time that night, keeping her eyes trained carefully away from the two-way mirror. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her fellow detectives, Ryan and Esposito, watching her every move. They were impressed by the way she had made the connection between the position of the body and a fictional crime scene from a mystery novel, and, knowing them, they were waiting for the prime opportunity to tease her about being a fan of the author waiting in the interrogation room.

She was notorious among the detectives in the 12th Precinct for liking the weird cases, those whose circumstances were out of the ordinary. They were more challenging and required a deeper approach- just what she needed to take her mind off of her own life. Her coworkers didn't share her opinion, though, fully aware that the more straightforward cases meant less work and headache.

And that's why they made such a great team- Beckett, Ryan, and Esposito. They complemented one another and weren't afraid of hard work, even if they'd rather be home doing who-knows-what. Despite that fact, Beckett had to admit that she wouldn't mind a partner who enjoyed a good mystery as much as she did.

And maybe if she had someone like that, she would be able to appreciate the irony of crashing the very same party she had wished so desperately to attend when she saw the announcement in the paper that morning. Not that she would have been allowed in as a regular attendee, of course. She was only a cop with an odd fixation for mystery novels.

On the way to the precinct, Beckett hadn't uttered a word, despite Castle's constant stream of babbling. She had put on her detective mask, shielding herself from the rest of the world. Unless it was absolutely necessary, she never spoke to suspects until she figured the best approach, and tempting as it was to talk to Castle, she wasn't going to break protocol this time. And, if she was honest with herself, she had felt a little out of her comfort zone at the party and needed to regain her bearings before facing Castle in the interrogation room.

That had been her excuse during the car ride, and for the following forty-five minutes. But, judging by the impatient looks Esposito and Ryan were throwing her way, it was time to face the music.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered all the files and pictures she needed for the interrogation, raised her chin defiantly, and strode toward the room. As she swung the door open, she could hear the clattering of chairs and hurried footsteps behind her as Ryan and Esposito raced after her, eager to observe the conversation from the other side of the two-sided mirror.

* * *

Kate Beckett intrigued him. Something about her made him want to investigate, to find out everything there was to know about the stone-faced detective. She was gorgeous, no doubt about that, but that fact alone wasn't the reason for his interest. Behind her rough demeanor he could see hints of a dark past, a deeply rooted melancholy, and an ever-present sadness.

She masked it very well with annoyance, though.

The detective entered the interrogation room without any sort of greeting or even looking at Castle altogether, speaking as if she was continuing a previously interrupted conversation.

"You've got quite a rap sheet for a writer," she began, studying the file in her hands and skimming the page.

But Castle, being almost a veteran on this kind of procedure, saw through her act. There was no way a detective would enter an interrogation room without having torn apart every minuscule detail on the page. After all, she had left him there, alone, for the better part of an hour.

There was no doubt in his mind that she'd studied his file, in addition to the ins and outs of the current case. He could tell by the way she was keeping her eyes fixed very determinedly away from him that she was far too distracted by his presence, having to keep herself occupied with the file to force herself to focus while she paced the room in front of him.

He could definitely play into this. She'd be a victim of his charm within minutes.

"Boys will be boys," he said, cheekily, in lieu of acknowledging her accusation.

He was itching to bring his playful side to the surface, and he decided it would be fun to see how far he could push the detective. She didn't strike him as a rookie, which gave him even more reason to try to throw her out of her game. Besides, she was kind of cute.

She flashed him an unimpressed smile before her eyes went straight back to the file, her finger trailing down the left side of the page as she began to detail the charges he had accumulated over the years.

"Says here you stole a police horse?"

"Borrowed," he retorted automatically.

"Ah. And you were _nude_ at the time." Castle knew what she was doing; trying to make him uncomfortable. It was interrogation 101, really. And it wouldn't work on him.

He kept his tone calm, an easy smile on his face as he spoke. "It was spring," he shrugged.

"And every time the charges were dropped," she stated, taking a seat across from him. Her eyebrows were raised knowingly, and the smirk on her face seemed to say _I know guys like you._

 _That's what you think_ , he thought.

"What can I say? The mayor is a fan."

His implication that he was receiving special treatment made the detective's eyes raise from the page, and she finally dropped the act. She set the file on the table and leaned closer to him, lacing her fingers together as she looked him in the eye for the first time. She was scowling, her brow furrowed in a mixture of annoyance and anger, but he was far too distracted by her beautiful hazel eyes to be intimidated by her glare. The bright lights at the party had prevented him from appreciating them in all their glory, but now, he found himself lost in their depths, hardly paying attention to what she was saying.

"Mr. Castle, are you listening to me?" With a start, he nodded, forcing himself to focus on her words. "As I was saying, every single person who enters this room is one of two things: either the person who makes my life easier, or the person who makes my life harder. Trust me, you do _not_ want to be the one that makes my life harder. So I suggest you drop the act and get serious."

Point made, she reclined back on her chair and slid a picture of a young woman towards him.

"Allison Tisdale. Daughter of real estate mogul Jonathan Tisdale."

"She's cute."

"She's dead," the detective replied, not missing a beat. "Did you know her?"

"Nope. Never met her before," Castle answered. "Can I ask where this is going?"

Detective Beckett didn't answer, instead passing him a photo of a man named Martin Fisk, according to her.

"Is that the guy who did it?" Castle asked.

"No. He's dead, too."

Whatever interest he'd found at the beginning of this interrogation, if you could even call it that, was fading fast. Two dead people that he didn't know, and no explanation offered as to how he could possibly be involved. "Detective Beckett, I don't understand," he said. "What's going on?"

With that, she pulled a photo from another crime scene, the placement of the young woman's body clearly mirroring exactly what he'd done in...

" _Flowers For Your Grave_."

She nodded, then pulled out another photo. "And this is how we found Fisk. Right out of _Hell Hath No Fury_ ," she said as she passed him the picture, a proud smile on her lips.

So _that_ was the connection with him- two murders that could have been straight out of his novels. He was almost impressed. Most detectives wouldn't have been able to put the pieces together. There was no doubt in his mind that Beckett had read his novels; she wouldn't have been able to recognize these crime scenes otherwise. And, judging by the way she'd been determinedly avoiding his gaze for the past several minutes, she was more than just a casual reader.

"Looks like I have a fan," Castle said, nodding toward her with a smirk.

She took the bait, not understanding what he was saying. "Yes. A really deranged fan."

"Oh, you don't look deranged to me," he said, quirking an eyebrow.

This time, she was confused, sitting back in her seat and tilting her head to the side. "What?" she asked. The hard-ass detective façade crumbled for just a second, and he grinned as her features softened. She really was cute.

He couldn't focus on that now, though. This was the prime opportunity to prove that he was onto her; that he could see through her act just as much as she'd seen through his earlier. " _Hell Hath No Fury_? Angry wiccans out for blood? Come on. Only hardcore Castle groupies read that one," he scoffed, and had the satisfaction of seeing the moment it dawned on her. Her eyes widened slightly and her nostrils flared in indignation.

 _Booya._ He won that round.

She was too flustered to stay in the room much longer, storming out after getting him to agree to let them peruse his fan mail. A few seconds after the door closed, he turned toward the large mirror on the wall and waved, knowing that she was probably standing there watching him.

He definitely wouldn't mind playing this game with her again.

* * *

For all of his bravado, Rick Castle wasn't a guy who took a police interrogation lightly. Sure, it had been fun, and Detective Beckett had made a powerful first impression, but the evening at the precinct had taken its toll on him. He wanted nothing more than to bask in the quietness and serenity of his home and relax.

As he opened the door to his loft apartment, he was greeted by a familiar melody being played on the piano, and the even more familiar sight of his mother, slightly inebriated, singing a rendition of a Broadway number, accompanied by a grey-haired man on the piano.

"Kiddo!" she exclaimed when she spotted him by the door.

"Enjoying yourself, Mother?" he greeted, shutting the door behind him as he stepped inside.

Judging by the crack of light slipping underneath the closed door just to his right, he knew that Gina must be home. And, considering the volume of his mother's performance, she wouldn't be happy.

"Mother, need I remind you there's a sleeping child upstairs?" he asked politely, but with a warning in his eyes.

"Oh, don't worry, darling, she can't hear us!" Martha dismissed with a wave of her hand.

"But I can," he argued, already halfway through the stairs.

When he reached to top floor corridor, he turned to the left, approaching an overly-decorated door. There, in big capital letters, his daughter's name was proudly displayed between a couple of childlike drawings of princesses and superheroes.

He reached for the doorknob, but left his hand lingering on the cool metal surface for a few seconds, trying to distinguish any coming noises from inside the room. Sure enough, a soft click, followed by the rumbling of sheets, alerted him to the fact that his daughter was still awake. Smiling broadly, he swung the door wide open.

"Aha!" he exclaimed. "Busted!"

"Da… daddy?" a tiny voice answered, sleepily, although too forced to be believable.

His heart swelled with pride. At ten years of age, Alexis Castle was definitely not taking after her grandmother in her acting skills, but Castle could see a little bit of himself in her every day. The corner of the book and the flashlight that were peeking out from under the pillow, where his daughter had hastily stashed them upon hearing his footsteps, reminded him exactly of himself as a child

"Oh, you can't fool me, my young padawan," he said in an grave voice. "I felt a perturbation in the force, so I knew you were awake." Alexis giggled, and he plopped down next to her on the mattress, speaking normally again. "Watcha reading?"

" _Artemis Fowl_ ," she answered, scooting closer so she could lay her head on his chest.

"Again?" he asked, draping his arm around her small shoulders. "Don't you know it by heart already?"

" _Daaad_ ," she chastised him. "It's the new one. I couldn't put it down, I have to know how it ends!"

"Oh, well, if that's the case…" He made no move to leave the bed, content in his little girl's company.

"Dad?" Alexis asked after a few moments in silence.

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"Where were you?"

"At the book party," he answered, bemused. "You knew that. That's why Katrina stayed with you tonight."

"I know, but…" She paused. "Gina's been home for hours, and I heard her telling Gram something about the police…"

Oh, well. That explained why she was up that late, book aside.

"Yes. A detective asked for my help with one of the cases they're investigating," he offered.

"That's all? You're not in trouble?"

"Despite my best efforts, no," he said, tickling her ribs. She giggled, then hugged him.

"Okay, Dad. I think I'm going to sleep now."

"Okay. Goodnight, sweetie," he said, kissing her forehead.

"'Night."

He walked out of the room and closed the door, but lingered in the hallway for just a moment, shaking his head when he heard the click of the flashlight being turned on again.

"Alexis?" he called through the closed door. "Artemis will be there in the morning. Sleep."

From the inside of the room, she giggled, and he heard the clicking sound of the flashlight being turned off again. "Okay, Dad."

He walked down the hallway toward the staircase, a giant grin on his face. No matter how difficult things were in real life, and no matter how outnumbered he felt with both Martha and Gina against him, he knew he could always count on his little girl to bring a smile to his face.

* * *

 _Hell of a day_ , Beckett thought.

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning by the time Detective Beckett turned the key in the lock of her apartment door. She shrugged off her jacket as she stepped inside, hanging it next to the entryway, and advanced through the empty space, flipping on the lights as she went.

It was bad enough that she had had to rush to a crime scene after her work hours, but she also had to deal with an self-centered jackass with an ego the size of Texas. To add insult to injury, the complete collection of his works stared back at her from the bookshelf in her living room, the bold letters on the covers displaying his name.

"What a jerk," she muttered, sitting on the couch and letting out a groan of frustration.

Meeting her favorite author had been… anticlimactic. She had been reading his books for years, ever since her mother died. And she had expected that their author would be at least half as compassionate, empathic and respectful as he showed on the page.

The man she met that night was none of those things. From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he had tried to get on her nerves at every opportunity. His comments and remarks had increasingly grown inappropriate, and… had he been flirting? No, he couldn't have been. If one was to believe the tabloids, he was engaged to his publisher. Not that Beckett kept tabs on him, of course.

She sighed. On nights like this, she would usually curl up in bed with a good book to help her get to sleep. Tonight, that impulse was tainted by the memories of his infuriatingly blue eyes trained on her. No Castle book that night.

Suddenly, an idea came to her mind, and she walked to the bookshelf to take one of the volumes from the bottom shelf. _Double Cross_ , by James Patterson. That would do. She felt a smile stretch across her face when she imagined the look on Castle's face if he knew she was choosing another author's book that night.

Smirking mischievously, she retreated to her bedroom.

* * *

Gina was still awake, reclining against the headboard and shuffling through some boring-looking paperwork by the time Castle made his way into their bedroom. She looked impatient, as usual, tapping the pen against the stack of papers, a scowl gracing her features. He said nothing, stripping off his suit and pulling his pajama pants out of a dresser drawer.

"Well?" she questioned when Castle failed to say anything.

He sighed and finished changing into his pajamas. "They needed my input on a case. That's all."

"Are you in trouble?"

"No, I'm not," he reassured her.

Her shoulders deflated, and the tension seemed to immediately evaporate from the room with those words. Castle was shocked to realize that she had been worried about him, rather than angry at him. His surprise was quickly replaced by a pang of guilt, flooding through his veins, when he mused about why his first assumption had been so wrong. He had learned to expect the worst when Gina was involved, and that was a sad thought to have about one's fiancée.

The weight of guilt still hanging over him, Castle knew he needed to elaborate; to explain to Gina what had happened. "Someone has been copying some of my murder scenes and they expected me to shed some light on the case," he explained.

"Why? It's not like you could know what a serial killer is thinking."

"I know, it's so senseless…" he trailed off, looking at his own books on the shelves in contemplation.

"Murder usually is," Gina replied.

"No. Murder usually makes a great deal of sense," he argued. "Passion, greed, politics. What's senseless here is the books that the killer chose. _Hell Hath No Fury? Flowers For Your Grave?_ My truly lesser works. Why would a psychotic fan pick those?"

"Maybe because he _is_ psychotic," his fiancée dismissed, setting the paperwork aside and patting the mattress next to her. "Come on, it's bed time."

He wasn't convinced, but he climbed into bed anyway. "We can talk about all of it in the morning," Gina offered, kissing his cheek as a way of saying goodnight.

The wheels of his mind were still spinning. He'd rather talk about it now, to help clear his mind so that he could sleep, but there must be a reason Gina was insisting that they postpone the conversation until the morning. She hated to delay their conversations— or their arguments, more often than not- always saying he was too lazy even to have an honest talk with her. And most of the time, she was right about that.

But that night, he recognized she must had been genuinely concerned about him, if she was willing to offer a raincheck to discuss their problems, most of which revolved around work.

 _Well_ , he thought, turning off the lamp beside the bed, _there is a first for everything_.

Gina's breathing evened out after just a few minutes, but he kept tossing and turning for what felt like hours, unable to clear his mind. Gina was wrong. There was always something to be done, and he would prove it to her… and to a certain green-eyed detective.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

It was only two hours into the day, and Beckett was already about to lose it. She didn't sleep very well last night, her dreams plagued by a certain pair of blue eyes. And, to make matters worse, the break room's coffee machine was broken. Again. Which meant she had to make her way to the robbery floor every time she needed a caffeine kick.

It would be wonderful if her interview with Rick Castle the previous day had helped them on their case, but they still had nothing. If that fact alone wasn't cause enough for irritation, it didn't help matters that Ryan and Esposito had been getting on her last nerve all day. Ever since she brought her collection of Castle novels for the homicide detectives to read through in hopes of finding connections, the two men had been cracking jokes about her apparent fixation on the writer. The idea was preposterous. She didn't have a crush on Rick Castle.

Not anymore, at least.

A loud thump shook her out of her thoughts, and Beckett looked up to find Esposito standing in the doorway with two officers, each carrying enormous boxes stuffed with papers. This must be Castle's mail, and by the looks of it, he was quite the popular author.

"Just set it here," she said, motioning at the table in front of her. The large volume of mail was slightly overwhelming, and Esposito must have noticed the bewilderment in her eyes.

"This is a big job to do on your own. You want some help?" he asked.

Assistance would be nice, but with the way Ryan and Espo had been acting today, the two of them would be more harm than help. "Yeah. See if Hastings has time."

"She's off today," Esposito responded as he walked toward the doorway, a sly smile on his face. "But lucky for you, you've got a volunteer."

He stepped out of the room and ushered someone in, and Beckett's gut clenched for a moment, her jaw dropping open when Rick Castle stepped into the room, his twinkling blue eyes meeting hers.

This day couldn't possibly get any worse.

"Good morning, Detective! I'm happy to help," Castle said jovially, joining her at the table. "When I saw how much mail there was, I figured you wouldn't want to do it alone, so…"

"Castle," she interrupted, finally pulling herself out of her moment of shock. "What do you think you're-" But she was cut off by the voice of her captain.

"Oh, I see you already found her, Rick," Montgomery said from the doorway.

"Yes, sir," the author said, flashing a wide smile at the captain. "Thanks again."

From the looks of it, Castle had spoken with Montgomery, and had already gotten approval to help with the fanmail. The fact that Castle had gone behind her back about this annoyed Beckett to no end. "Sir, can I speak with you?" she requested, looking at Castle pointedly.

The captain smiled. "No," he said with a raise of his eyebrows, disappearing in the direction of his office.

Castle was smirking at her, so she snapped. "Don't look at me like that. You want to be useful? Grab a letter, and do not say a word."

Thankfully, the author respected her request for silence, and for several minutes, the ticking of the clock on a nearby wall was the only noise in the conference room. The sound was unnerving in its rhythmic persistence; so much so that Beckett was having trouble focusing on the fan letters scattered over the table. And, despite the fact that Castle hadn't said a word for the past twenty minutes, she could feel his eyes digging a hole in her carefully erected barriers, studying her as if she was a particularly difficult puzzle. It was thoroughly distracting, and finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

"What?" she spat, more annoyed by the second.

"Nothing," Castle responded, shrugging his shoulders. "No, it's just, uh... the way your brow furrows when you're thinking. It's cute."

Did he just call her _cute_? She decided to ignore the comment, trying to deflect his attention instead.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said.

Obviously, Castle was waiting for her to break the silence, because he dismissed the letter he was supposed to be reading, tossing it aside and focusing his undivided attention on her. "Shoot."

"Why are you here?" Maybe that was rude, but she didn't care. "You don't care about the victims, so you aren't here for justice. You don't care that the guy's aping your books, so you aren't here because you're outraged. So what is it, Rick? Are you here to annoy me?"

"I'm here for the story," he said, matter-of-factly.

And he went on about how there was always a story, a chain of events; defending that murder made a lot of sense, in a twisted way. Of course, that was the complete opposite of what Beckett had learned in her experience as a detective. Sometimes, a random act of violence could cost someone their life, and the lives of everyone around them.

Before she knew it, Castle was turning the conversation towards her, claiming that she should not be there, either. He painted a picture of her life with so much accurate detail that she could only clench her teeth and fight the tears burning in the back of her eyes. How it was possible that he could catch on to the fact that she'd lost someone close to her, and that her decision to become a cop stemmed from that loss, she'd never know.

Beckett didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how close to home he had hit, because he seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she was struggling as she listened to him, but she had no other choice. She simply had no words. And he must have finally reached that same conclusion, noticing her troubled expression, because he laid back on his chair, clearing his throat and looking everywhere but at her.

"Cute trick," she rasped, her voice shaking with a mixture of sadness and anger towards this stranger that had just uncovered her deepest secret. "But don't think you know me."

 _Because you don't_ , she left unsaid. He seemed to get the message, because he backtracked a little bit, leaning back in his chair and choosing another letter to focus on.

"The point is there's always a story. You just have to find it," he said.

She chose to let the subject drop. They weren't getting any work done, so she looked down at the letter in her hand, deciding to block the writer from her radar. Her eyes widened as she noticed the rather disturbing childish picture underneath the text, depicting the same rose petal murder scene she'd seen yesterday.

"I think I just did," she exclaimed, bolting from her chair, the writer hot on her heels.

Castle thought he had her figured out, but he knew nothing about her or how dedicated she was to her job. If he believed she was a vulnerable little girl, she was happy to prove him wrong. And, if this lead panned out, in a few hours he would be out of her hair, for good.

* * *

As it turned out, they did find the key piece of evidence among his fanmail. A print on the letter that Beckett found led them to Kyle Cabot, a psychologically unstable young man who was pathologically obsessed with Castle's books. In addition, he was one of Allison's clients. However, something was not right about Cabot, in Castle's opinion. It all seemed too easy- the young man seemed too guilty, too easy to catch. But his opinion didn't count for anything in a precinct full of professional detectives, so he was sent home.

That night, an idea began to form in his head, and as soon as he got up the next morning, he made his way to Black Pawn Publishing. Once there, he ducked his head as he passed the open door to Gina's office, heading instead for Mandy, a very nice girl who was doing an internship with the company.

"Good morning, Rick," Mandy greeted him when he approached her. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Hi, Mandy. I was hoping you could do me a favor," he said, turning his smile on full power.

"A… a favor?" she asked, bemused. "From me? You know Gina is working today, right?"

"Of course, but this is too small to bother her… I just need an advanced copy of _Stormfall_."

"Oh. Right. Let me see what I can do," the girl smiled, disappearing down the hallway.

Five minutes later, someone came his way with the solicited book. Only it was not Mandy walking towards him- it was Gina.

 _Busted._

"Hi, Rick. Mandy tells me you need this," his fiancée said calmly, gesturing to the book in her hands. "Funny you didn't mention it this morning."

"Yeah, I just remembered I needed to make a present for someone, so I thought it would be a good idea," he shrugged, hoping his poker face would hold under her scrutiny. It rarely did.

"You know we only produce a handful of these, Rick. They're meant for publicity purposes," she explained in a tone one would use to scold a rebellious child. "If you want to make a thoughtful gift for someone, you can always wait until the book is released. There's a high risk of it getting leaked if you give an advance copy to the wrong person. It wouldn't be the first time something like that has happened."

"I know, but Beck… this person won't leak it. I'm sure," he assured her, cursing himself at his near-slip.

"And who is this person, again?" Gina asked, observing him carefully.

"It's a… friend?" He went for nonchalant, but it ended up sounding more like a question.

"Rick," Gina sighed, definitely not fooled. She knew him too well, and she studied him, waiting not-so-patiently.

"It's for Detective Beckett, okay? I just want to say thank you, and goodbye."

"You can say that over the phone," she said, straightening her spine and squaring her shoulders. Castle knew the signs; she was getting ready to fight. He had to put an end to the argument before it escalated, and quickly, or he wouldn't walk out of Black Pawn with the book.

"Come on, Gina. It's just one copy. Do you want me to purchase it, or what?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he knew that it was the wrong thing to say. Sure enough, Gina's nostrils flared with indignation.

"What I _want_ is your word that this is all there is to it," she charged. "What I _want_ is for you to go home and _work_. What I don't _want_ , _like_ or _need_ is you playing cop. You're an adult with responsibilities. Start acting like one."

He didn't answer and remained still, finally throwing a meaningful look at the book Gina was still clutching. Her shoulders deflated as she sighed, the fight seeming to abandon her body, and she handed the volume to him.

"You're impossible," she said, exasperated.

"I'm just going to say thank you," he repeated, and turned to leave before she could change her mind.

"Yeah, right," Gina breathed.

Castle wasn't sure if she'd wanted him to hear her final comment or not, but it didn't matter. He had the book. And he wasn't "playing cop"- he was trying to find justice. He just hoped that counted for something when Gina found out about his plan.

* * *

"Richard Castle!" Beckett stormed in the library, her angry call earning more than a few aired glares from the people studying at the tables. She was too irritated to care about them, though. She could only think about Rick Castle, who didn't even have the decency to look the tiniest bit ashamed when their group reached his side. In hindsight, she could see how bringing along four officers to arrest him might seem a little too much, but she hadn't been thinking straight.

The nerve of that man! He thought he was so smart, charming her and coaxing her to lower her defenses, only to steal her case file the minute she let her guard down. For a moment, when he arrived at the precinct with a gentle smile and an advanced copy of his latest book signed for her, she had felt special, flattered, the fangirl in her not quite believing the privilege of being able to read her favorite writer's book before anyone else. All those feelings melted away the second she realized something was amiss.

"You're under arrest for felony, theft and obstruction of justice," she said, glaring at him as she spoke.

"You forgot making you look bad," he retorted, an amused smile on his face.

"You know, for a minute there, you actually made me believe that you were human," she said, lowering her voice so that only he could hear, then turned to the accompanying officers. "Cuff him!" she commanded.

"Bondage! Detective, I'm flattered, but I'm afraid I'm taken," Castle said with a smile.

Everything he said to Beckett was like someone poking a bear with a stick: useless, pointless, and dangerous. All that his carefree attitude did was make her even angrier, rather than charm her, as he was obviously hoping to do.

She didn't acknowledge his barb, turning to the officers once again. "Oh, there's no need to be gentle."

"How did you find me anyway?" the writer asked as two of the officers held his arms behind his back, slapping the cuffs onto his wrists.

"I'm a detective, that's what I do." She wasn't going to let him see her flinch. She had to be above it all; she couldn't let him know he was getting to her, difficult as it was to hide.

"My mother told you, didn't she?"

His proud little smirk told her that he was enjoying the arrest, which was making Beckett more furious by the minute. And besides, what did he want with the case file? They had caught the killer; the case was closed.

"By the way, the rose petals in the Tisdale murder is grandiflora, not hybrid teas," Castle stated as the police officers began to lead him to the door.

"I'll make a note of it," she replied, unimpressed.

"Yeah, you probably should, since it means Kyle Cabot is innocent."

With those words, the officers led him out of sight. But Beckett stayed there, transfixed for a minute, musing about Castle's parting words. He was only a writer, so there was no way he could have seen anything she'd missed, right? It must have just been a cry for her attention- he'd tried everything else he knew to do. It was all a game to him, after all.

Either way, she was done with him now. Beckett counted to ten, took a deep breath, and followed the officers to the cruiser parked outside of the building.

* * *

Prison wasn't so bad, after all. Castle's cellmate turned out to be a nice guy with whom it was very easy to chat, and he was able to enrapture Castle in his story about how it wasn't his fault to have been caught red-handed stealing in a shop. He had a real ability to make a story interesting, and Castle was almost jealous of the way the boy was able to craft such an excellent tale. By the time someone came to get Castle out of there, he was so outraged by the injustice of his cellmate's arrest that he had forgotten the predicament he was in. Walking down the hallway, he threw one last look at the bars with melancholy, sure that whatever was ahead of him was going to be much worse than any confinement.

When the officer guided him around the corner into the lobby, the temperature of the room seemed to drop a couple of degrees. Raising his eyes, he spotted the reason. Gina was there, standing a few feet away from Detective Beckett and Captain Montgomery, who were looking awkwardly between Castle and his fiancée. Of course, his mother didn't keep her mouth shut, even after he specifically asked her not to tell Gina he needed to be bailed out.

"Gina," he greeted when he reached her side, keeping his tone soft to test the waters.

She didn't say anything, simply turning around to walk towards the elevators. Normally, she didn't behave like that in public, always afraid that there would be a reporter closeby to plaster their dispute on all the tabloids of Manhattan. The fact that she was behaving this way now meant that the situation must really be serious. Gina's behavior didn't normally bother him, but this time, he felt embarrassed, especially in front of Beckett and Montgomery. Before following his fiancée, he looked at the detective and her captain and shrugged apologetically.

"I'm sorry about all that. But you still have the wrong man."

With that, he hurried after Gina, who was already inside of the elevator, and showing no signs of waiting for him.

The car ride that followed was one of the most uncomfortable ones Castle could remember. The cabbie kept throwing them puzzled looks in the rear-view mirror, while Gina made a point of staring through her window, purposely avoiding looking at him. He knew that whatever he said would result in an argument, so he chose to stay silent until they were in the safety of their home.

Luckily, it was school time, which meant that Alexis wasn't there to witness the argument, and his mother would probably be with some friend or another. Gina must had been thinking the same thing, because she glanced to the stairs as soon as the door of the loft closed behind him, then she turned, with a ferocity worthy of a cobra.

"Explain yourself," she demanded, fire in her eyes.

"Well… you see…" he began, as pathetically as he could muster.

"That's not an explanation. I want to know why."

"They made an arrest yesterday, and I was sure that-" he tried to explain, only to be interrupted by Gina.

"I couldn't care less about that. I want you to _explain_."

"Explain?" he asked, confused.

"Yes, explain. I want to know why you are such a selfish and childish coward. I want you to explain why you disrespect my job so much that you prefer to goof around, only focusing on yourself and your fun little games, instead of being an adult for once in your life. And I want to know how it's possible that you have come this far in your career being such an arrogant and irresponsible man."

She said that without raising her voice, keeping her tone even and cold, which only made it worse. He much preferred when she yelled at him. That way, he could at least pretend that she was wrong; that her anger was irrational. Castle didn't know what to say, and Gina took advantage of his silence.

"Did you know that the board has been pressuring me about your next book? Did you know that I've had to lie for you for weeks now? Of course not, because you don't care about my work. If you did, you'd know that I've been defending you, assuring everyone that your next novel is going to be a success, that it's going to make everyone forget about Derrick Storm, and that the wait will be worth it. But in reality, I have no idea what said book is even about. At this point, I'm not really sure you know yourself, Rick," she ended in a whisper, defeated.

He opened his mouth, not sure of how could he defend himself at that point, but Gina wasn't finished.

"Look, Rick. This situation can't continue any longer. You have three weeks to send me a draft of your next novel. Otherwise, Black Pawn will have to let you go. There's nothing I can do."

She didn't give him the time to react before she was out the front door, leaving him standing in the middle of the living room, feeling more ashamed than he had ever been. He felt the impotence raising inside of his chest one more time, as it always did lately when he thought about writing. Gina was right: he had no idea what was next, because he had come to hate his job.

Writing Derrick Storm began as a pastime, almost a game. Over time, it had become nothing more than a job to him, losing all of the appeal it once had. Derrick was a rebel, a spy who followed no rules and who saved the world thanks to his individualistic vision, so different than that of his superiors. The character had been a reflection of everything Castle aspired to be, but now, he wasn't sure that was the case anymore. Everyone in his life kept telling him that he had to settle down and be responsible; that he was the father of a preteen girl, so he should get married and provide Alexis with a stable home.

The truth was that, when he got down on one knee in front of Gina on that hot air balloon, his rebellious and independent side got lost inside of him, and when Gina moved in with him, it became impossible to find it again.

So he ended up hating his own character, because Storm had become everything Castle could never be in real life- a grotesque counterpart, a nemesis… his unachievable dream.

Independent and free-spirited people wrote novels worthy of becoming best-sellers. Settled family men with no right to dream wrote mediocre pocket books. Richard Castle felt like he was no longer worthy of his success, and his self-imposed pressure was nothing compared to that which his editor, whom he lived with, placed on him.

Running a hand through his hair with a deep sigh, he plopped down on his desk chair and opened the lid of his laptop. His fingers stroked the keyboard almost in a caress while he waited for the screen to come back to life. He remained in that position for a couple of minutes after the computer booted up. Finally, determination overtook his expression and, instead of opening a new document to write, he clicked on the Internet browser and typed "Allison Tisdale" into the search bar.

After all, everybody knows that every book begins with a good and thorough investigation.

* * *

 _Thank you for your support, comments and suggestions. I don't have the time to reply personally to all of them, but they're much appreciated :)_

 _And as always, thank you to encantadaa for her beta work._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Nobody could deny that he and Beckett made a great team. The way that the two of them were able to work so effortlessly together was something that Castle had been unable to capture before, not even in his best novels. They complemented each other, their different investigational preferences working in tandem to solve a case. Beckett was the one who wanted to stick to the facts and play by the rules, while Castle was more willing to push the boundaries and accept outlandish conclusions. Through his nontraditional methods, Castle had found out that the victim's father was suffering from a terminal disease, while Beckett was the one that realized Allison's brother was lying.

Everything was going perfectly with this case, leaving Castle feeling confident enough to chase Tisdale as he tried to escape from his apartment. He was determined to catch the man; determined to prove his worth to Kate Beckett once and for all. All of those hours spent playing cops and robbers as a kid with his babysitter were finally going to pay off- this was Richard Castle's moment.

Beckett had cuffed him to her cruiser when she went up to Tisdale's apartment, but luckily, Castle had just managed to get a hold of the key and unlock the cuffs. He shook the open cuff off of his wrist as he bolted out of the police cruiser, chasing after the suspect. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Beckett's number as he ran, alerting her to Tisdale's presence in the alley.

His plan backfired on him the moment he reached Tisdale, who grabbed onto him, cornering him in the dirty alley. Admittedly, following around a desperate man who had just murdered his own sister was not his best move.

Beckett arrived just in time to see Tisdale grab onto Castle. She couldn't convince Harrison to let him go, but she actually seemed to be genuinely worried about Castle's well-being, not even bringing up the fact that he'd managed to escape from the car. Despite the fact that Tisdale was using Castle as his human shield, though, Castle was calm. After all, Tisdale's gun still had the safety on. It would only take a simple click for him to be in trouble, but as long as that didn't happen, Castle could pressure the man a little.

"Hey, Harrison," he started. "You know what's bugging me? If you were that deep in debt, why didn't you just ask your father for the money?"

Tisdale's grip on the gun didn't falter, but Castle's words certainly had an effect on Beckett. She lowered her eyes in a warning glare at him.

"Castle, you are not helping!" she shouted, keeping her gun carefully trained on Tisdale.

He raised a hand to Beckett, motioning for her to keep silent. She didn't seem to appreciate the gesture, if her small huff of indignation was anything to go by, but he would explain later. He was finally getting through to Tisdale, who was showing more and more symptoms of agitation. Castle was glad he couldn't see the man's eyes anymore; his crazed, hunted-animal look would probably have increased since their brief moment of struggle in the alley. Nevertheless, he could still feel the tight hold the man kept of his neck and shoulders, and the gun was inching closer and closer to his temple with every passing second.

A smart man might have stopped there, the cold barrel of the gun against his head serving as a warning, but Castle decided to push further. He'd seen this scene in tons of movies, and had even written it at least a dozen times. All he had to do was keep pushing, little by little, and soon enough, Harrison would break.

"You know what I think?" Castle said, keeping his tone casual. "I think you _did_ ask him for money. I think you asked, and he said no. A self-made man like that, I bet he thought you were _weak_ for asking."

Maybe taunting the man with a gun trained on his head wasn't the best idea- judging by the wide-eyed look on Beckett's face, she didn't think so, either- but it wouldn't be much longer before Tisdale broke. Either that, or shot him in the head.

That option became increasingly real to Castle in the brief moment of silence that followed, and he could feel his heart pounding, waiting for Tisdale's response.

"I was trying to make something with my life, and all my father cared about was her!" Tisdale shouted, his breath hitting heavily on Castle's neck as he spoke.

Castle's heart leapt as he realized that his method had actually worked: he'd managed to get a confession out of Tisdale. Even in his brief moment of triumph, though, Castle didn't miss a single thing that was happening in that alley: Tisdale's nervous ticks, the putrid smell of the dumpsters behind them, and Beckett creeping closer, subtly, trying not to draw attention to herself.

"That's why you killed her," Castle continued, trying to distract Harrison so that he wouldn't spot Beckett. "It wasn't just for the money. You wanted to punish him before he died, and take away the only thing he loved. That's a pretty good story."

He followed Beckett with his eyes as he spoke, watching her carefully. An air of tension clouded her as she assessed the scene before her, eyes narrowed in concentration and gun at the ready. All she needed was a window of opportunity, the moment Tisdale would lose his focus and make a mistake, and she could make her move. She was continuing to advance stealthily toward them, but before she had a chance to act, Tisdale turned his focus away from Castle and turned to look at the detective. Castle hadn't managed to distract the man long enough.

And then Tisdale made a big mistake. He aimed his gun at Beckett, momentarily forgetting about Castle in his haste to stop the detective from advancing further. With Harrison distracted, Castle knew this was his only chance to do anything. So, with reflexes so quick they would have impressed even his former combat trainer, the writer jabbed his elbow into Tisdale's face, grabbing the gun from the man's hand as he cried out in pain.

Beckett rushed to Tisdale in an instant, pinning him to the ground to cuff him, but Castle was still too excited from his victory to notice what was going on around him. As he looked at the gun in his hand, he felt a new rush of adrenaline racing through his veins.

So _this_ was how his characters felt in his novels. In that moment, it was like nothing could defeat him. He felt invincible, powerful. He could imagine the scene from the outside: the chase, the showdown, the confession… Castle knew exactly how he would have written it.

The thrill of writing the perfect scene was nothing compared to actually being a part of it, though. His day had been a whirlwind of activity- following leads, cornering suspects, bickering with the team- and he realized with a start that to Beckett, it had been just another day at work.

Reality was so much better than fiction. He wanted to take part in the action- to really live it- then translate it to the page afterwards. His words would be more powerful after his experiences, and the readers would love it. With that epiphany, he turned to Beckett.

"Tell me you saw that!"

* * *

After escorting Tisdale to her cruiser and sending Esposito and Ryan to the 12th to process him, Kate found herself standing on the sidewalk, the flashing lights of the police cruisers filling the street with their glow. The bustle of officers and paramedics rushing around and taking statements surrounded her. Everyone was busy doing something, and there seemed to be nothing left for her to do except supervise the clearing of Tisdale's apartment.

She let her mind wander as she watched an officer send curious onlookers on their way. It was nice to have a bit of down time after closing a case- not only did it help her to relax and de-stress, it also gave her a moment to reflect on the day's events and rejoice in the knowledge that there would be one less killer roaming the streets after that night.

Allison Tisdale and Harrison's other two victims were dead, but at least now their families could have some sort of closure. In Beckett's experience, that made all the difference in the world. There was always injustice in murder, and while knowing the reasons behind such despicable act couldn't heal the permanent wound inflicted on the victim's loved ones, it could help in the recovery.

At least, that's what she believed. She didn't have that kind of luxury, though. Ten years later, and she was still trying to find the answers to her life's greatest mystery. That was the reason why she became a cop- not only to find closure for herself after her mother's murder, but to help others do the same, so that no one would have to go through the same pain she did.

A presence at her back shook Beckett out of her reverie, and she turned to find Castle approaching her. He was still sporting a proud smile- in fact, he hadn't stopped smiling since he coerced a confession out of Tisdale and disarmed him in that impressive move. She wouldn't admit it to him, but she was indeed impressed with the way Castle had conducted himself during the whole case. Not only had he managed to give the team a decisive lead, he had also obtained a confession, ultimately closing the case. Castle had a remarkable attention to detail, and his striking ability to spin the story of the crime in such an authentic way had ultimately led them to the killer.

If only he weren't so cocky about it.

Watching him coming to a halt in front of her, she schooled her features, less she gave any of her impressions of him away.

"Well... I guess this is it," he said. He offered a warm smile with the words, although somewhat hesitatingly.

"I guess so, yeah," she responded, the pleasant tone in her voice forced. She was actually sad to see him leave, even though he'd been more of an annoyance than a help most of the time.

"It has been great seeing you work, Detective."

Beckett blinked a couple of times, at a loss of what to say. She had expected Castle to gloat, flirt with her, or adopt any kind of inappropriate behavior, but she certainly hadn't expected this respectful politeness. It was a new side to him- in fact, he seemed almost human for the first time since she'd met him- and his behavior was so unexpected that she could only manage a shrug.

"I'm just doing my job."

"Well, don't let me keep you, then," he said, extending his hand.

She studied him carefully as they shook hands, trying to detect the slightest hint of deception in his eyes. He had fooled her before- the first time she thought they were saying goodbye, only to have him steal her notes on the case-and she wouldn't put it past him to do it again, despite the sincerity behind his blue irises.

Castle must have sensed her uneasiness, because he chuckled lightly, letting go of her hand.

"I mean it this time, Detective. I'm leaving, and I just wanted to say thank you, and goodbye."

"Goodbye, Castle," she nodded, making a move to turn around.

"Unless…"

She whirled back around and looked at him, raising her brows.

"Have you given my suggestion a second thought?" he asked.

"Your suggestion?"

"About giving me a badge," he said with a grin, quirking an eyebrow.

She scoffed. "In your dreams, Castle."

"Oh, you have no idea," he said, a smile lighting up his face in childish glee. "Anyway, I'll see you around."

With that, he turned and left, strolling leisurely down the street. Beckett stood frozen in place, all of the activity in the alley seeming to come to a stop, as she watched him disappear down the street. For a moment, she thought he might have been interested in her, after their constant banter for the last couple of days. What was she thinking? He had a girlfriend- no, a fiancée- and Beckett didn't want anything with him. But still, it had been nice to feel wanted, especially by a man whom she'd admired for years.

She snapped out of her haze, and with a sigh, she turned around. She couldn't linger any longer and watch Castle disappear out of her life- it was time to leave behind that fragile young woman who had idolized the writer and relied on his books to help her stand on her own. It was time to bring back Detective Beckett, the independent, iron-willed woman. She had work to do.

* * *

The words were flowing like they hadn't in months- years, really. He wasn't even sure of where the story was going, but it didn't matter. Castle was writing, his fingers flying over the keyboard at light speed, and yet, it still didn't seem like he was typing fast enough. His brain was supplying pictures, scenes, and phrases so quickly that his fingers could hardly keep up. He barely had time to get one idea typed into the document before the next idea struck him with the force of a freight train.

The feeling of power that came with every page filled, the sense of pride whenever he finished a chapter, the fulfillment of creating elements that clicked together to form a rich story- that was why he wrote. And he was feeling all of that now.

For the first time in what felt like forever, inspiration had hit. He'd started writing shortly after saying goodnight to Alexis, and the longer he wrote, the more he saw his main character, forming before his eyes.

She was professional, dedicated, and driven by her thirst for justice. She was a warrior angel, a force of nature, and the voice of the victims, all at once. She was a conundrum. He could clearly picture her: chestnut hair skirting the tops of her shoulders, green eyes with a tinge of sadness, perfect cheekbones, an elusive smile… suddenly, she had a face so defined and so familiar that Castle gasped. Of course, his character was _her_. Detective Kate Beckett.

He blinked quickly a couple of times, trying to figure out how it was possible that the detective had crept her way onto the page without his knowledge. A sudden movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he turned his head to find Gina standing in the doorway to his office, looking at him.

Her spine was straight, shoulders thrown back, and her chin raised defiantly. She was ready to argue. But in a matter of seconds, her whole demeanor softened, as the fight left her body. Her shoulders sagged and she released a long breath, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly. Her eyes shone for a second in delight before she schooled her features.

"Hey," he greeted her, not moving from his position, the computer still perched in his lap.

"Hello," she responded.

An awkward silence descended around them, reminding him of their argument from the previous day. Or rather, her ultimatum.

"Have you… have you eaten?" he questioned. It was a strange thing to ask, but maybe it would break the ice. He hadn't spoken to Gina since their fight, and he was unsure of where they stood.

"Hours ago. It's… it's almost midnight, Rick."

"Is it?" he said, glancing at his watch. "Wow… I didn't realize the time."

They fell silent once again, but moments later, Gina finally seemed to wake up from her haze, blinking quickly and straightening her posture.

"Don't mind me. I'll leave you to your writing," she said with a soft smile, and she disappeared back into the living room.

Castle turned his attention back to the page the moment she left. He always struggled to refocus on his work after being interrupted, so he figured he would finish the scene he was currently writing, then edit it the next day.

He managed more than just one scene, though. A whole chapter later, he saved the document and closed the lid of the laptop. It wasn't perfect, and he was sure he would have to rewrite a lot of it, but it was good enough for tonight. Writing a mystery novel required a lot of plotting and planning, and he was yet to outline where the story was going. But he had taken the first step, the most difficult one. He had his main character. It was just a matter of time before the rest would fall into place.

Setting the computer on top of his desk and stretching his protesting muscles- Alexis was always telling him he should find a better position to write- he snuck a glance at the clock. Two in the morning. Furrowing his brow in contemplation, he noticed a glass of milk and a sandwich resting next to the lamp on his desk. He must have been so immersed in the story that he hadn't heard Gina come in. That hadn't happened to him in a long time.

And it was all because of Kate Beckett. Working alongside her- or rather, following her- had made him open his eyes to new possibilities. It had been a fun couple of days, and he couldn't imagine how awesome would it be if he could join Beckett and her team every day. There was no way the NYPD would allow that, though.

And then, an idea came to his mind. It was a simple solution, really: he could call Bob.

But that would have to wait until the morning. As busy as the mayor of New York City surely was, Castle doubted he would be awake at that hour. Scratching his head in exhaustion, he left Gina's peace offering and his new character behind and made his way to his bedroom to join his fiancée in slumber.

* * *

Most people loved the feeling of anticipation and discovery that came with a surprise, but not Kate Beckett. She liked to be in control of a situation, and she wasn't ashamed to admit it. So needless to say, after having a writer unexpectedly shadow her over the last few days, she was ready for things to go back to normal.

Although she would never say it out loud, meeting one of her favorite authors had put some things in perspective for Beckett. She had seen how his mind worked, and was able to picture his writing process more clearly. He wasn't a bad writer, that was for sure, but now she knew that he wasn't a bad investigator either. He liked to get absolutely every detail right, so he could build the story behind the situation, and that story led him to his conclusions. It wasn't a bad method for a novelist, although Beckett couldn't see its application to real police work. Having him around had been… well, not fun, but definitely interesting, but she was more than happy to see him return to his normal life. And she would do the same.

So, the day after Tisdale's arrest, she arrived to the homicide floor with a newfound energy, confident in her role as the Twelfth's lead detective. It was _her_ precinct, and that day, no rich egotistical author would stand in her way- even if all she did that day was file the paperwork for the arrest and tie the loose ends for the trial.

She strode across the bullpen with her shoulders squared, nodding in greeting to her fellow detectives. She'd only made it halfway to her desk when Montgomery called to her from across the bullpen and summoned her into his office, stopping her in her tracks.

Beckett turned around slowly and headed for his office, curious as to why he needed to see her the moment she arrived at work. When she reached the doorway, she knocked lightly on the frame, peeking her head around the corner.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yeah," her captain said in a serious voice, motioning for her to enter. "I just got a call from the mayor's office. Apparently, you have a fan."

"A fan, sir?" she asked, bemused.

"Rick Castle." Montgomery's lips twitched slightly, and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, fighting furiously the eye roll that was begging her to be set free. Lately, the writer seemed to be everywhere, ready to bother her, even when he wasn't physically in the room. "Seems he's found the main character for his next set of novels, a tough but savvy female detective," the captain explained.

Beckett straightened her spine and raised her eyebrows, not sure if Montgomery was serious. Surely, he couldn't be talking about her. Was that the way Castle saw her? And was he really going to base a character in his next book- wait, series of books- on _her_? That couldn't be possible.

"I'm flattered," she managed, although it sounded more like a question.

"Don't be. He says he has to do _research_."

"Oh no," she responded immediately. Research could only mean one thing: Castle was going to shadow her again, wasn't he?

"Oh yes."

"No way."

"Beckett, listen. He-" the captain tried to explain, but Beckett didn't give him a chance.

"Sir, he is like a nine-year-old on a sugar rush, totally incapable of taking anything seriously."

"But he did help solve this case," Montgomery countered. "And when the Mayor's happy, the commissioner's happy. And when the commissioner's happy, I'm happy."

Well, that was certainly the end of their argument. Nothing was more important to her captain than the commissioner's approval, and once he had it, he refused to back down.

Sometimes she hated the police hierarchy.

"How long, sir?" she asked with a sigh, defeated.

Montgomery didn't answer immediately, instead nodding over Beckett's shoulder toward the doorway of his office.

"Well, that's up to him."

Beckett didn't even have to turn around to know who Montgomery was looking at. _He_ was there.

She felt dizzy for a moment, the contradicting emotions inside of her making her head spin. She was irritated by the jocose way in which Castle had approached something as serious as a murder investigation, and repulsed by everything that being a millionaire represented. On the other hand, though… there was no denying she felt some attraction towards the writer. Over the last couple of days, she had enjoyed her work much more than usual. That had nothing to do with the case itself, and everything to do with Castle's company.

All of that was mixed with the sting of awareness that he wasn't interested in her, and didn't see her the way she saw him. And despite the fact that there was absolutely nothing romantic going on between them, she couldn't help but feel that the lack of flirting on Castle's side was a result of something she did wrong.

Now that he was going to be officially shadowing her for God knows how long, she wouldn't be able to push those thoughts from her mind. Every day, she'd be reminded of the fact that she wasn't good enough for him.

With a deep breath, Beckett turned around to face Castle, irritation flooding through her veins when she saw the smirk on his face. She shot a glare at him, pushing past him as she stormed out of Montgomery's office and into the bullpen.

If Castle thought he could get to her nerves, he was mistaken. She was ready to reinforce her shield.

* * *

 _I'm sorry it took so long to update this story. Thank you for your support, it really means a lot. And a special thanks to encantadaa for her extraordinary beta work._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

* * *

The building that Castle and his family lived in was not one of the most crowded ones in Manhattan. There couldn't have been more than thirty inhabitants in all, and yet, Castle didn't know any of them. Sure, he knew the first names of his neighbors, and would give a friendly hello in passing, but he didn't know anything about them- not even their last names.

Given the circumstances of the case he was investigating with Beckett- a murder of a young girl in an apartment building's laundry room- he found the fact that he didn't truly know any of his neighbors disturbing. There was no way to know if any of them was a criminal, and being the father of a ten-year-old girl, he didn't like that uncertainty. His overactive imagination didn't help matters much, either. It had been fun spinning the tale of the neighbor of 8B and his presumed culpability in their murder case to Beckett and the boys, but he was starting to get worried about the likelihood of something like that actually being true.

As he traveled up the elevator to his floor, he considered the idea of hiring private security for Alexis. Living in New York City was great, but Castle wasn't a big fan of its crime rate. The thought stayed in the back of his mind as he opened the door to his loft.

"I'm home!" he called cheerfully. There was nothing like going home to his girl to lift his spirits. He spotted her immediately, sitting at the kitchen table with a textbook open in front her, her grandmother at her side.

At the sound of her father's voice, Alexis raised her head, her face alit. She shut her book and stood up, running straight into his arms.

"How was your first day with the police, Dad?" she asked, smiling brightly at him.

"Pretty good, actually. We even caught a case," he smiled in return. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed his fiancée for the first time. She was sitting on the couch, apparently absorbed on the fashion magazine she was reading.

Gina had made it abundantly clear over the past few days that she wasn't happy with his arrangement with the NYPD. But every time she brought it up, Castle reminded her that he was finally writing for the first time since she moved to the loft, and only because of the inspiration provided by the homicide team at the Twelfth (he had wisely left out exactly which of the detectives provided the inspiration). So he and Gina had called a truce: she wouldn't say anything about his research methods, as long as he met all of his deadlines. That didn't prevent her from giving Castle the cold shoulder, though.

"Hello, Gina," Castle called, his tone as amicable as he could muster.

"Hello, Richard," she responded, looking at him with a blank expression and a tight smile.

And just like that, the awkwardness settled between them once more. Thankfully, they weren't alone, saved by the child still glued to Castle's side.

"We've already eaten, but there are leftovers in the fridge," Alexis told her father.

"Don't worry about it, sweetie, I grabbed a bite on my way home," he said.

Stepping out of the foyer, he led Alexis towards the kitchen area, where Martha was waiting with a warm smile. The fact that his mother and Gina weren't in the same area of the loft at the moment was just an added bonus. He wasn't trying to avoid Gina; he just didn't want to be in the same room as her. And there was a vital difference between those two things- at least, that's what he told himself.

"Look at you, kiddo!" his mother said as they approached her. "You sound just like a real cop."

He smiled and leaned in to brush a kiss on her cheek. She stood from the table and settled by the counter, while Castle sat in one of the bar stools, his daughter still at his side.

"So, who died today?" Alexis asked.

"The nanny."

"Do they know who did it?" his daughter questioned.

"Well, apparently in an actual homicide, they don't know who did it until after the guy gets caught," he answered, making a funny face that made Alexis giggle.

"Uh, Rick," a voice came from behind him, startling him. Apparently, Gina had decided to join them. "Do you think this is the right moment to discuss this?" she asked, looking pointedly at Alexis.

"She asked," he muttered, shrugging.

"Dad," Alexis said from his other side, reclaiming his attention. "Why would someone kill a nanny? They're not dangerous or bad people."

He didn't miss the sigh that escaped his fiancée's lips. He knew that sound perfectly. It was the background of many of his nightmares; Gina's trademark way of letting him know she was upset without saying it out loud. It was her favorite passive-aggressive tactic, because it had an undeniable advantage: it could be used in public without people realizing she was mad.

He decided to ignore it for the time being, focusing on his daughter instead. She had asked him a serious question, so she deserved a well-thought out answer.

"I don't know, Alexis," he started. "Sometimes people do terrible things and, as much as we try to find an explanation for them, there's nothing that can justify them. We don't know yet what happened to that girl, but the police are working very hard to figure it out. We'll do our best to try to find her killer, and the story behind her murder."

Alexis considered him for a moment, absorbing his explanation, and then she smiled. "Okay. I'm going to head upstairs to get ready for bed. Will you come say goodnight?"

"Of course," he assured her.

Castle watched his daughter happily trotting away, a pang of sadness coming to his heart at the realization that she wouldn't be that innocent for much longer. All too soon, the day would come when she didn't need him around anymore to reassure her that there weren't any monsters under the bed, and that made him feel a thousand years old. Alexis was his whole world, and he wanted to savor the years in which he was her idol, before the real world interfered and she grew up.

He was so busy sulking that he barely noticed his mother retreating upstairs after Alexis. What he did sense was the sudden drop in temperature when he and Gina were left alone together in the wide room. Or maybe he was just imagining things.

The cold glare and the tense posture of his fiancée were very much real, though. She took her time crossing her arms in front of her chest, raising her eyebrows at the same time. She was the human equivalent to a lioness ready to pounce, and he felt a shiver run down his spine, wondering what he did this time.

"She's a little young for that kind of conversation, don't you think?"

"She asked me a question. I just answered her as honestly as I could," he said, taking a tentative step towards Gina in an attempt to placate her.

"You should be more careful with what you tell her, Richard. She's just a child."

"I just told her the truth," he shrugged, failing to see her point. Was he supposed to lie to Alexis now?

Gina huffed, rolling her eyes. "Exactly. Maybe you should have sugarcoated it. A dead nanny? A little too much for a kid her age. She could get traumatized."

"I have never lied to Alexis, and I'm not going to start now," he stated, squaring his jaw and clutching the edge of the kitchen counter with his left hand.

"Come on, I don't think this should be considered a lie."

He was becoming increasingly agitated, but he tried to keep his voice even. The last thing he wanted was Alexis hearing them arguing. _Again_.

"I want her to know that I will always answer her questions, no matter what they are about," he finally said, hoping that would settle the argument.

"In that case, maybe you shouldn't expose her to certain subjects," Gina replied.

"Such as?"

"Murder, for example," she offered, in a tone that suggested that it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Gina," he sighed, exasperated. "You do realize I'm a mystery author, right? Murder is in the nature of my job, as you're aware."

"Yeah, well, murder on the page is different. Now you're discussing _real_ murders with her. It's one thing for her to think that what you're writing about is just pretend; it's another thing entirely for her to know that these things actually happen in real life."

"So this is about my involvement with the NYPD, then," Castle said, the answer finally dawning on him. "It took you long enough to bring it up."

To his surprise, Gina uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her sides. With a sigh, she took a seat in one of the stools before she continued.

"That has nothing to do with it. This is about Alexis and what you say to her. I just want what's best for her," she said softly.

"So do I," he replied, confused by her sudden change in demeanor.

"Okay. Then maybe we should talk some more about this." She gestured towards the stool next to hers in a clear invitation, which he didn't accept.

"Look, Gina, thank you for your concern, but I will decide what I tell my child."

At his words, Gina straightened her spine, and her eyes clouded with hurt.

"Of course, she's _your_ child after all, isn't she?"

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you should go upstairs," she answered in a sharp tone. "She's probably waiting for you to tuck her in. Say goodnight to _your_ child for me, would you?"

And without waiting for a reply, she disappeared in the direction of his office.

* * *

He really had the most responsible child in the world. By the time he made his way into Alexis's room, she had already put on her pajamas, brushed her teeth and climbed into bed. When she noticed him, she marked the page on the book she was reading- a different one from the other night, he noted- and smiled brightly at him. At the sight, all the tension from the conversation with Gina was banished from his mind. His daughter was adorable.

"So, how was your day? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!" he exclaimed affectedly, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed.

She spared him no details of her fascinating classes, her violin lesson and the latest gossip from school, and he loved every second of it. Being able to see the world through Alexis's eyes was always refreshing, and he lost track of time, as usual. After a few minutes, Alexis's eyelids began to droop, alerting him to how late it really was.

"We can talk some more tomorrow, Pumpkin. It's bedtime now," he said, pulling the covers over her after she settled down onto her pillow. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to pick you up from school, or to help you with your homework."

"Don't worry, Dad. Gram was here," Alexis reassured him.

"And Gina," Castle offered without thinking.

"Right. And Gina," Alexis said after a pause, averting her eyes. It almost sounded as if she had forgotten about his fiancée, and the sad thing was, that wouldn't surprise him. After all, Alexis and Gina barely spent any time together. He was always the one to take his daughter to school and pick her up in the evenings. And even when he wasn't there to do it, his mother was. But it wasn't Gina's fault. She worked very hard, and when she came home, she wanted to relax, not to take part in Castle and Alexis's crazy antics.

He liked to play as much as Alexis did, so it wasn't infrequent that they turned the living room into a space shuttle, a pirate ship, or an unexplored jungle. Gina never joined them, instead retiring to his office- _their_ office, he reminded himself- to work, often complaining about the noise.

He realized Gina had been right earlier: she wasn't a part of Alexis's life, and he didn't know how to fix it. Deep down, he didn't feel that Gina could be a constant in his daughter's life. And what did that mean for his marriage? He didn't trust the person he was going to marry with Alexis, even when the whole reason why he was marrying her was to provide some stability for his daughter? It didn't make any sense in his head, but marrying Gina was the right thing to do, the responsible choice. They would figure out the family dynamics in the future, once the marriage was official. That's how it was supposed to work, right?

"Alexis, I'm sure that if you ask her, Gina would be more than happy to help you with your homework as well," he said, although he wasn't sure that was true. Gina would help Alexis, that much was certain. But afterwards, she would probably find a way to make Castle feel guilty about her wasting her time, or something like that. He didn't mind it, though, if it meant that Alexis had someone else to look after her.

"Oh, I don't want to bother her. She works a lot," Alexis said in a low voice.

"Honey, if you want me to stay home with you, I will," he assured her, his voice serious. "You know that, right?"

"But your work with the police…" she started to protest.

"You're more important than my work. Never doubt that," he said, looking Alexis in the eye.

"I know, Dad, but it's fine that you have to work. I want you to be happy, and following the detectives makes you happy. I know you like to play cop," Alexis told him, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Hey!" He feigned offense for a second, before turning serious again. "Thank you, sweetheart. Just let me know if it becomes too much, and I'll be home in a jiffy."

"It's really okay, Dad."

"Good," he said. Satisfied with her answer, he leaned in to place a kiss on her hair. "Sweet dreams, Pumpkin."

Just as he was about to close the bedroom door after him, Alexis called his name. He peeked his head inside the room again.

"Dad, why don't I have a nanny? A lot of people in my class do."

"Well, your mother and I decided if someone was gonna screw you up, we wanted it to be me. Only you managed to turn out just fine, anyway." And with a wink, he closed the door and made his way downstairs.

* * *

The chat with Alexis had cleared his head, and Castle knew that he needed to speak to Gina. He wasn't happy with the way they had left things earlier, and they were overdue for a real conversation. He found her on the couch in the office, a manuscript open on her lap and a red pen in her right hand.

The sight of the manuscript, already covered with red marks, caused him to feel a pang of sympathy for the poor writer whose work was being butchered. Over the years, he had learned to fear Gina's edits. She wasn't a bad editor- quite the opposite, actually- but she did have a temper, and her favorite way to channel her anger was through the red ink of her pen.

She must have heard him enter, because she turned her head in his direction abruptly, startling him and making him forget what he was about to say.

"What now, Richard?" Gina said after a few seconds.

"I think we need to talk."

That seemed to be the right answer, because she put the manuscript aside and patted the space next to her on the couch, her posture already more relaxed. He sat and took a deep breath before facing her.

"Gina, I-"

He was interrupted by the loud ringing of his cell phone, and he fished the device out of his pocket, intent on declining the call, until he saw the caller ID. Without thinking, he answered the phone.

"Detective Beckett! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Hey, Castle," she greeted in a sharp tone. "I'm on my way to get the autopsy report from Lanie."

"Really? Do they do those at night?" he asked, checking his watch.

"Are you coming or what?" Beckett snapped.

"Yes, of course. I'm just… I'm just touched that you thought of me." He couldn't resist the urge to tease her. They had been throwing verbal darts at each other all day with such at ease that it had made him reach for his notebook to take notes every thirty seconds or so. It had been the best day in months for his writing.

"I was ordered to call you," she said in a curt tone.

"I see," he chuckled. "Well, either way, I, uh, can leave right away."

"I'll text you the address."

"Okay," he said, but she had already hung up.

As he put the phone down, he realized what he had just agreed to, and what it would mean for his conversation with Gina. He turned to her, looking at her apologetically.

"Uh, that was…" he trailed off, clearing his throat. "That was Detective Beckett. They have something."

"A decisive lead, I hope."

"Uh… yes, of course. It's really important," he said, unable to meet her eyes.

"Really? Because it sounded like she didn't know what you're going to learn from the medical examiner," Gina stated flatly.

He cringed internally at her words. It was bad enough that he was going to leave the apartment without having talked to her, but now Gina knew that he had lied to her about the reason. Things between them were going south very quickly, and he needed to get out of there before it could get any worse.

"Uh, Gina, listen-"

"Don't bother. Have fun with your cop friends. Clearly they are more important than your family," she spat. She stormed out of the room, leaving him there gaping like a fish.

He could feel the headache starting to form, and with a sigh, he rushed out the front door to meet Beckett. He would speak with Gina in the morning, when her anger had subsided. It was always best to cool off after a fight, and the extra time allowed him ample time to think of something to say.

He couldn't focus on that right now, though. He had a murder to solve.


End file.
